


You’re the one thing I’ll never regret

by fallingintodivinity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s14e03 The Scar, Facial Shaving, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Romance, Sam's sexy grief beard, Schmoop, Shaving, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:59:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingintodivinity/pseuds/fallingintodivinity
Summary: “Look,” Sam says when he catches Dean glaring at his beard for the fifth time that evening. “It’s really notthatbad.”[A coda to S14E03:The Scar]





	You’re the one thing I’ll never regret

 

“Look,” Sam says when he catches Dean glaring at his beard for the fifth time that evening. “It’s really not _that_ bad.”

Dean grunts noncommittally and gulps down another mouthful of pasta.

It’s just the two of them in the kitchen of the bunker at the moment – it's pretty late, so everyone else has already finished eating and retired to their various rooms for the night. Sam has to admit he’s grateful for it, grateful to have Dean all to himself, even if it’s just for this short period of time.

He's barely been able to take his eyes off Dean since he got his brother back. Even while the worry about what Michael's planning is weighing heavy on his mind, all his _heart_ can focus on is that _Dean's back_ , sitting safe and alive across the table from him, close enough to touch. Sam's well aware that Dean's hurting and hates, _hates_ that he doesn't know how to fix it - after their talk in the Impala on the way back, he’s barely even had time to say two words to Dean; once they’d reached the bunker, he’d been busy dealing with all the other matters that'd come up while they were away.

And now that they’re alone again, Dean’s had the entire afternoon to build all his walls back up and Sam doesn’t know what to say to get his brother to open up to him again. He settles for staring at Dean as he eats and occasionally mechanically putting a forkful of his own food into his mouth, barely even tasting it.

“Nah, man. It really is,” Dean says through a mouthful of food and Sam starts guiltily, quickly dropping his eyes back to his plate.

“What?” he says, sneaking a look up at his brother.

“The _beard_ , Sam. It really _is_ that bad,” says Dean, waving a hand at Sam’s face.

“I told you, I was busy,” Sam mumbles, scrubbing a hand self-consciously over his chin. He stares down at his plate, only half aware of what he's saying when he adds, “if you really hate it that much, _you_ do something about it.”

“Fine, I _will_.” Dean swallows the last bite of his pasta then hops off his chair, beckoning to Sam. “C'mon, Sammy.”

Sam stares at his brother, mouth slightly open but as is par for the course, when Dean wants something from Sam, Sam's gonna give in, probably way too easily. He gets up from the table, leaving his half-eaten plate of food behind, and follows Dean out of the room.

 

***

 

In the roomy bathroom adjoining Dean's bedroom, Dean makes Sam sit on the edge of the bathtub while he gets the shaving cream and digs out a fresh razor from the cabinet under the sink.

Sam watches silently as Dean brings the shaving cream over, putting it on the counter by the sink. He kneels in front of Sam with the can of shaving cream in hand, but then he has to tip his head up and Sam has to duck his for them to be at the right angle, and it isn’t all that comfortable for either of them.

Dean purses his mouth, pondering, then stands up and pats the counter in front of the sink.

“Let's try this instead,” he says. “Up here.”

Sam obediently hops up onto the countertop, legs dangling over the edge, then lets Dean nudge his legs apart so that he can step between Sam's thighs, and Sam can't help the unsteady thump of his heart against his ribs as Dean's face is abruptly really, _really_ close. The sudden chill of the shaving cream on his skin makes him jump a little, breath sticking in his throat, and his brother laughs softly under his breath at Sam's reaction.

Sam’s hyperaware of each pad of Dean's fingertips, individual points of burning heat on his skin, stark through the coolness of the shaving cream that Dean's spreading carefully over his jaw. Dean cups his left hand over Sam’s jaw to hold his head steady, broad and sure on his skin; with his right hand, he draws the razor down over the curve of Sam’s cheek. His breath puffs warm over Sam’s lips, and a shiver reflexively works its way down Sam’s spine.

Dean’s hands are firm and gentle on his skin, face only inches away from Sam's, brow furrowed in concentration and bright green eyes intent, and it’s the sheer _intimacy_ of it – of feeling Dean’s callused fingers curl over the tender, vulnerable skin under Sam’s jaw and the sure glide of the razor over his skin, of having Dean’s full attention on him, soft and openly fond as it is in those rare unguarded moments when he forgets there’s anyone looking – that sends a frisson of _want_ right through Sam, fluttering through his gut and settling low at the base of his spine.

He can feel his body reacting to Dean’s touch on his skin, cock stiffening in his sweats, his breath coming shallower and face flushing hot. Hopefully Dean won’t notice the heat in his cheeks under all that shaving cream.

Dean’s almost halfway done with his task now, and he wipes his hand – the one covered in shaving cream – off on his jeans and shifts his grip to the back of Sam’s head, palm snug against the base of his neck, to expose the other half of Sam’s jaw.

Sam swallows nervously. Dean’s standing _so close_ , and the freshly-shaven side of Sam’s jaw feels cold in the chilly air of the bathroom, making him all the more aware of the searing heat of his brother’s hand on the other side of his face. It’s no help at all that the way Dean has his hand at the back of Sam’s neck is very similar to the way Dean would hold a lover’s head in a kiss, or, perhaps – it’s the way Dean would hold Sam’s head, if Sam slid off the counter and went to his knees and wrapped his lips around –

Sam’s painfully hard now and he’s probably leaking a wet spot into the front of his sweats, but he doesn’t dare to risk checking because if he looks down, Dean will too, and Sam is really, really hoping he can get out of this with his dignity intact and his big brother none the wiser about the effect he has on Sam.

“’kay, all done,” Dean says, making Sam jump, because apparently he lost the last ten minutes or so letting his dick do the thinking for him. Before Sam can react, his brother steps even closer and reaches around him to turn the tap on, and Sam’s stiff cock bumps right up against Dean’s flat stomach.

Dean freezes, mouth falling open in a perfect ‘O’, and Sam feels himself go cold all over.

“Dean,” he says desperately, glancing down purely on reflex, and – and _Dean’s hard too_ , unmistakable bulge in his jeans even as he’s gaping at Sam, still holding the dripping razor in one hand.

Dean blinks at him, then puts the razor down on the counter beside Sam slowly.

And – it makes sense, in a funny kind of way; in a way that nothing else in Sam’s life has, recently, without Dean. They’ve never been all that good at finding the right words, him and Dean, not when it’s something that really matters. But…in the things that go unspoken between them - the brush of their shoulders, a single lingering glance - they’re almost always perfectly in sync. In those quiet spaces between words, Sam _knows_ Dean in a bone-deep way that’s perhaps better than he knows himself.

He reaches for Dean before his brother can second-guess himself; draws Dean close before he can pull away and build all his walls back up again.

“Sammy,” Dean says quietly, gentle and so heartbreakingly open.

“Yeah,” Sam says, equally soft, then it’s his turn to cup Dean’s jaw with one hand, his brother's stubble rough on his palm, and tip Dean’s face up to his. “Is this okay?”

In response, Dean tilts his head, parting his lips and Sam leans forward to fit his mouth over Dean’s, and it feels like something he didn’t even know was missing slots back into place.

They kiss for long moments, deep and hungry, until Sam can’t stand it anymore and slides off the counter, backing Dean up against the opposite wall. They’re pressed together from chest to thigh and Dean’s kissing him like he’s ravenous for Sam, like he’s been waiting to do this for years and all Sam had to do was ask. He blindly gropes for the button of Dean’s jeans, flicks it open and gets his hand inside; Dean’s not wearing underwear and the weight of his rigid cock in Sam’s hand, heavy and blood-hot, sends a fierce shock of lust through Sam that he feels all the way down to his toes.

Dean groans deep in his throat, hips shoving into Sam’s hand, then he’s pulling impatiently at Sam’s sweats, dragging them down over his hips. Sam can’t help the way his hips snap into his brother’s palm at the first touch of Dean’s hand on his dick, and he’s panting needy and desperate into Dean’s mouth as they work each other’s cocks.

Sam drags his brother’s jeans down to give himself better access, then fumbles clumsily for the soap dispenser with his free hand; sends both the razor and the soap dispenser clattering into the sink but he does manage to get a handful of liquid soap which he smears on his and Dean’s cocks, slicking them up as they jerk each other off.

Dean’s pressing feverish kisses to Sam’s face, his lips, his cheeks, and murmuring “Sammy, Sammy,” like it’s the only word he remembers how to say, and Sam doesn’t even understand how it’s possible to love one person this much; kisses Dean until they both can’t breathe for it, buries his nose in his brother’s hair and inhales his scent, fill all his senses with _Dean, Dean, Dean_.

Neither of them is going to last long; they’ve waited too long to do this and they’re both too worked up to be able to drag it out. It’s Dean who gets there first, his cock pulsing in Sam’s fist as he gasps and spills thick and hot over Sam’s hand and both their shirts, and it’s the feel of Dean’s come streaking his skin that tips Sam over the edge and he comes hard in Dean’s hand, full-body shudder that leaves him feeling lightheaded.

He presses Dean against the wall and kisses him slow and careful as their breaths slow, sweat cooling on their skin. There’s a lot they’ll have to talk about later, a lot of planning for the long road ahead, but for now, Sam’s world consists of just him and Dean.

He wants to tell Dean that whatever happens, they’ll face it together; that Sam will fight tooth and nail to never have Dean taken from him again – but that can wait for later. Right now, this is enough.

Dean smiles at him, sweet and tentative, lifting a hand to brush gentle fingers across Sam’s freshly-shaven jaw, and Sam thinks, yeah, maybe he gets it, too.

 

End.

 


End file.
